Behind the Night
by kittykatloren
Summary: Leanne watched him go, watched as he turned into a tiny black dot in the sky, watched as he dropped down to ground level and vanished in the fray. FE10 Radiant Dawn; Leanne/Naesala three-part series of oneshots.
1. I

**A/N:** Another favorite _Radiant Dawn_ pairing - Leanne and Naesala. Such an incredible relationship. I've never played _Path of Radiance_, and I know there's a big backstory with them in that game, so I hope I've done okay at incorporating those events into my story. This is a story in my typical style - a series of related oneshots going chronologically, with some amount of time separating each one.

I hope you enjoy. Though I love this couple, this was hard to write. In a good way, though. Anyway, as always, please take the time to review and thanks for reading! This will be a three-part series, so keep an eye out for the next chapter soon.

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

* * *

"Come on. Don't be afraid, Leanne. You can fly; it's not like we'll be plummeting to our deaths."

"Oh, but Naesala, it's so tall!"

"Exactly. More time to catch yourself. What are you afraid of? I'll be there too. I'll catch you if you panic."

The famous terrain of the bird tribes' land was perfect for such dangerous things as leap-falling, as Naesala called it. The cliff dropped off as suddenly as if someone had split the mountain straight down the middle like a worker splits wood for a fire. The valley was wide, with similar cliffs on all sides, and a narrow river winding below, surrounded by a dense, shady forest. Leanne stared critically at the view; it was quite marvelous, but she still couldn't help worrying a bit.

All the same, she stuck her chin out stubbornly, her toes barely hanging of the edge. "I will not panic."

"'Course you won't. You've been raised by ravens; you don't panic. Come on then!" Naesala's rough hand grabbed hers, swinging her slightly forward so that she almost slipped off the edge. Gasping, she scrambled backwards, beating her wings to regain her balance. Fiercely she glared at his smirking face.

"Wait until I am ready!" she scolded. Tentatively she stepped forward again and took his hand. "Count… to three?"

"All right," Naesala said cheerily. "Remember, let yourself fall for a while, right? It's more fun that way. Fly at the very bottom. I won't let go of your hand."

Leanne nodded quickly, mixed apprehension and anticipation trembling through her veins. Naesala's deep voice seemed somehow far away as he counted them off. When Leanne heard "three," she closed her eyes, bent her knees, and threw herself off the cliff, gripping Naesala's hand as if it were her only lifeline.

A split second after her feet left the ground, she felt Naesala leap, too. They shot through the air like a pair of beorc arrows, spinning and spiraling; from beside her, Naesala let out a whoop of laughter. She could feel the wind tearing against her face and feathers, so she pulled in her wings, and they went even faster.

"Open your eyes, Leanne! You'll miss it all!"

Regretfully Leanne opened her eyes to slits – she could do no more for the harsh wind slamming against her. She was going so fast, so fast it seemed impossible, zooming towards the ground as if she'd never be able to stop. And it was terrifying… but at the same, exhilarating.

She was so _free_. She and Naesala, with nothing touching them but hard, fast air and each other, his hand warm in hers and his delighted laughter ringing in her ears. She had never seen him so relaxed. Leanne laughed, closing her eyes again and drawing herself a little closer to him.

"Ready, Leanne? Fly!"

"Oh!" With a thrill of terror she opened her eyes again to see the ground rushing dangerously close. It was so close that she could see the individual trees and rocks, rivers, even leaves –

And then they had reversed, the strength of Naesala's wings pulling them back higher into the air. For a second, she simply clung to him. In her elation she had forgotten about the fear of the rising ground, forgotten that she needed to fly at the end. Once her heart settled, though, and they were hovering in place a few lengths above the treetops, she slid from Naesala's arms and supported herself, smiling boldly at him. "Reyson will be upset that you took me and not him," she said, though she could not bring herself to feel sad.

"Ah, Reyson's happy doing whatever it is he always does. You looked like you could use a little fun. Come on, then – now we have to get all the way back up."

Anxiously Leanne looked at the height from which they had fallen. But Naesala, noticing her sudden discouragement, simply laughed and took her hand again, pulling her back towards home.

* * *

Distantly, Leanne could hear the rumblings of battle; she could feel the fury of soldiers pounding in her heart. The intensity of their emotions – fear, bloodlust, righteous anger, pride – nearly made her sick. It was all too much, sometimes, to be burdened with not only her own fear, but also the mind-numbing anxiety of both allies and enemies as well. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms and her wings around herself. Now the rumblings were deafening, screams and strikes.

Suddenly a strong arm pulled her in by her shoulders. For a second, she gasped, wondering if an enemy had somehow found her – but then she felt the erratic throbbing of her heart begin to cool and still, filled instead with a tranquility that she had come to associate with only one person. Not even her brothers could calm her so. Naesala was beside her, holding her close, his arm tense but careful. Glancing up, Leanne watched his dark, narrowed gaze flit across their surroundings.

"Don't stray into this battle, Leanne," he said roughly. "You had better not get yourself hurt, you hear?"

"But, Naesala, I wish to help. I can aid them as no one else can. You know that I - "

"Yeah, yeah, I know," hissed Naesala. "I don't care about helping that little beorc, really. You have to stay safe. These battles are already over your head. Stay with Nealuchi, and stay out."

Leanne bit her lip and struggled. The feeling of war made her sick, yet she longed to fight beside such brave warriors – for if Naesala was fighting with them, they had to be at least as brave as he. She could help them so much. Sensing a powerful wave of emotion rolling from Naesala's heart, Leanne turned around to face him, her head titled to the sky.

"Want to know why you have to stay safe?" he asked lightly, studying the battle in front of them. "You're too pretty to die."

Without a backward glance, he leapt into the air, his powerful wings whipping the dust and leaves at her feet into a storm. For a moment, she didn't move, her heart beating more rapidly than it had even when she was afraid. No, this feeling was different; she couldn't decide what it was.

Leanne watched him go, watched as he turned into a tiny black dot in the sky, watched as he dropped down to ground level and vanished in the fray.


	2. II

So many nights, Naesala could not fall asleep. Instead, he left the camp as silently as if he were nothing more than a shadow, the same color as the night, the same type of nothingness that could fade away into the darkness as if it had never been.

He found a sheer cliff and a mythically dense, foggy forest to hide him. The place was much more reminiscent of home than the edge of a beorc campsite. At the edge of the cliff, the ground plunged into a rocky, lifeless riverbed, and shrubs tangled like wildfire between trees, creeping up the trunks in an impenetrable thicket. But Naesala was satisfied with just the cliff. Standing at the edge, he stared down below at the barely trickling stream. The sight was so familiar, but also strangely sad.

Why was he still even breathing? Why was allowed to feel the cold on his face, hear the whispers of the night, feel the wind on his wings? Twice a traitor, twice a betrayer. He deserved nothing more than to be crushed on the hard rocks below, bloody and broken. No one should be allowed to look at him, speak to him, touch him. For he was filth, and he would be lucky to be killed at the claws of Tibarn. He was a waste of a life.

"No, you're not," said someone from behind him, very quietly, very sincerely.

Naesala whipped around. He knew that voice from the first breath. "Leanne," he sighed, shaking his head. "I should've known you'd be here, barging into my thoughts."

"I didn't mean to." She took a few small steps so that she was beside him. Her golden hair glittered in the iridescent moonlight, and her eyes shone like stars. Caught for a moment in her beauty, Naesala had to turn his gaze quickly towards the sky. She, however, would not let him be distracted. Her soft wing touched him gently on the shoulder. "You shouldn't think such things so openly about yourself, Naesala."

"Ah, but it's all true. I am twice a traitor. You can't deny that. Only scum would do the things I've done."

"Don't say that," insisted Leanne, though still calmly. "Naesala, I – I don't like it when you talk like that. I know that you are not any of those things. You have always guarded me and been there for me, even when I had no one else. You were the one who saved me three years ago. My whole life – when my family was destroyed – you took care of me, even when I was little. When I lived with the hawks… I missed you. I trust you, Naesala. Please, believe me – you are not a waste, or scum, or filth."

"So what am I, then? A saint?"

"No," sighed Leanne. "I… don't know what you are."

Unable to keep his eyes away from her any longer, Naesala studied her calm, honest face, her eyes closed now, her head tilted towards the ground. When had anyone ever thought of him like that? So determined, so convinced that he was more than a cruel-hearted fiend? How could he deserve to have her think so highly of him?

"You're thinking like that again," Leanne said sternly, hey eyes still closed. Swaying a little where she stood, she leaned into Naesala's side, her head resting lightly on his arm.

"Sorry."

They stood in silence for a long, long moment, disturbed by nothing other than the vague sounds of insects and animals and rustling leaves. Ever so slowly, Leanne was falling closer to him, and it was only then that Naesala realized how warm her small body was compared to his; she radiated heat like a sun in the nighttime chill. Her white wings glowed vibrantly pale against his dark tunic and black feathers.

She was everything he could never comprehend - innocence, serenity, and purity. A small, tender hand found his and squeezed it gently.

"Thank you for always… being with me," she murmured, the words a little quiet. "Someday… I will learn what you are."

Naesala made a noncommittal sound but didn't reply. He didn't think he had to, anyway. For she was exhausted; he didn't know how she had managed to find him this far from camp. Lifting her into his arms, Naesala found that she was somehow asleep, or at least resting stilly. Her head tilted into his chest, and her hand curled into a fist over Naesala's heart. Gentle breezes made her feathers tickle his arms, but he barely noticed, too entranced by her beauty.

He kissed her on the forehead before turning to bring her back to camp. He knew he'd have to travel quietly. For if Reyson saw him holding Leanne in such a way, Naesala would have yet another person dying for the chance to rip him apart.

* * *

"You keep your filthy hands off of my sister," hissed Reyson. His green eyes – so reminiscent of his sister's – glinted in the firelight.

Naesala crossed his arms, fighting to forget how similar Reyson was to his sister. "Or what? You'll fight me? Good luck with that, Reyson. I'll tell Rafiel to order a casket and a ceremony for you beforehand, to save him some time."

"Don't you _dare_," Reyson snarled, taking a step closer. Though the heron was short in stature, Naesala couldn't help but be impressed by the combination of Reyson's poise and fiery temper. The heron glared and prodded Naesala in the chest. "You sold me into slavery for your own accursed greed. How do I know you won't do the same to her if your coffers go empty? Stay away from both of us, traitor. Do you understand me?"

"Relax, Reyson," growled Naesala. "You know full well that Tibarn would tear my throat out if I ever hurt you again. Or Leanne. So back off."

There was a long, heavy pause, while neither man backed down. The first to move was Reyson. He stepped back and glared – if possibly – even more darkly. "Just when I had thought about trusting you again," he said bitterly. "You're a fool, Naesala. You're a fool and a dead crow if you think you can go on like this. Stay away from my sister."

Naesala watched him go, struck by his golden hair and white robes – again, so like Leanne's. Even his demeanor, his stance, his posture. But the words he spoke were so different. For a moment, Naesala wondered if Reyson was right. But as he thought of Leanne again, all his misgivings faded into unimportance, into the vague grey storm that he left to deal with another time.

* * *

"Why do you trust him so?"

Rafiel's question was simple and true-spirited. He did not mean to chastise, accuse, or slight his little sister. Yet still, Leanne's inner defenses rose instinctively; she crossed her arms and met her brother's eyes defiantly. "He is more than you think, Rafiel. None of you have given him a chance to prove that he more than a thief and betrayer. He has done wrong. But he is not a bad person, Rafiel. And still, no one has given him another chance!"

"Leanne, calm down, I was not implying that you were wrong to place your trust in him," assured Rafiel. "I only wondered why, when there are so many others who would protect you just as fiercely."

Glancing down at the ground, Leanne forced herself to relax, letting her wings drop a little and shaking her head to clear her thoughts. Why did she trust Naesala, so wholly and completely?

"He saved my life," she murmured. "When no one else was there, he came for me. He stayed beside me. My whole life… ever since I can remember… Naesala has been there." Leanne closed her eyes. Disjointed, mirrored shards of memories flashed through her mind. "I can tell him anything and he will not share a word. I can ask him anything, speak to him at any time… for he is always there, just for me, always for me. He guards me with his life. If someone… if someone were as important to you as he is to me, perhaps you could understand how I have learned to trust him."

"I do understand," said Rafiel. "I understand how powerful such a bond can be. And it is comforting to me, to know your reasons."

With a kind nod, Rafiel laid a hand carefully on her shoulder for a few seconds, then drifted off to another part of the camp, walking, as always, as if he were weightless. Leanne was left with nothing to do except stare after him, unable to discern his thoughts on the matter. Perhaps if Rafiel understood, he could speak to Reyson, and then she wouldn't lose her family for her love. But there were too many unknowns.

She thought through all of the things she hadn't been able to tell Rafiel - that behind the fiercely distant, sarcastic manner, behind the cold and blackness, and behind the scathing, remorseless words, Naesala despised himself for what he'd done, craved some way – any way – to redeem himself in his own eyes. Leanne remembered the tiny chills that tiptoed down her spine when he touched her, whether it was just a brush of the shoulder, or his hands taking hers to lead her someplace safe.

Every moment with him stood out like a star in Leanne's mind. She smiled when she recalled the sound of his laugh, his little sideways smirk, and the resonance of his voice when he spoke her name so sensitively and carefully.

Shaking her head quickly, Leanne set off at a fast walk, following Rafiel's footsteps. Thoughts changed nothing, thoughts won no wars, thoughts made no one happy. She had no time for pondering.


	3. III

**A/N:** An extra-long chapter. Thanks all readers and reviewers. Please, tell me what you think of my ending, and I hope you enjoyed the story! If I ever get around to playing _Path of Radiance_, I'm sure I'll write more on this lovely couple.

* * *

"May I sing you a song, Naesala?"

"Of course you may," grinned Naesala, giving her a regal little bow and imitating her formal speech. "You don't need to ask, Leanne. You know your voice is beautiful."

Leanne blushed slightly. But she drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and sang regardless, her voice rising like bells through the courtyard and over the empty garden. They were the only people there, alone, relaxing in the summer sunshine, side by side on a carved stone bench. Leanne's song surrounded Naesala just as completely as the air or the flowers. Naesala watched her sit straight and pristine, swinging slightly with the music she created.

Each note was as clear and pure as a windchime. For some reason, it sounded as if there were ten herons singing, but it was only her, only Leanne. Her voice spiraled higher and higher, then dropped again, the tone deep and strong, building intensity until she trilled back into the notes that floated through the air like clouds. Softer and softer her voice grew, until nothing more than a whisper lingered in the wind. Even the words were flawless, the beauty of the ancient language pouring like honey off her tongue. Naesala stared, mesmerized, as she slowly relaxed her posture and opened her eyes.

"Did… did you like it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Leanne, that song… what kind of galdr was that?"

"It was the galdr of heart," she murmured. "It… it is one I have always known but never sang."

"It was beautiful," said Naesala in wonder. "How come you never sang it before? By the gods, when I do something the first time, it doesn't come out nearly so perfect."

Leanne beamed, though she still looked shyly at the stones under their feet. "I'm glad you liked it," she said, holding out her hand and glancing at him sidelong. Naesala took her fingers in his, running his rough calluses over her tender palms. "The galdr of the heart gives strength. Courage. All the emotions associated with the heart. I… wanted to sing it for you."

It took a long moment for Naesala to process her words. Her vivid emerald eyes flicked from his face back to the ground, somehow hopeful, scared, and challenging at the same time. Quickly Naesala rose, pulled her to her feet, and took both her hands, raising their twined fingers in between their bodies.

"The heart, eh?" he said smoothly. "What else do you associate with the heart?"

"People," she said. "People I care about."

"Such as?"

Her eyes blazed at him, determined and coy now instead of merely hopeful and shy. Before she could respond, Naesala kissed her, deaf to his conscience and judgment.

Her lips were even softer than her hands and her skin. Untangling their hands, Naesala wrapped his arms around her small form, pulling her closer and tighter. Leanne did not resist. She kissed him back, her hands touching his face; Naesala could feel her shy smile on his lips.

"The last heron princess," he murmured distractedly when her lips pulled away. "Go and find someone else, someone who deserves you."

She shook her head fiercely, her usually calm eyes strikingly sharp. "Don't… don't leave me behind again, Naesala," she said. "I don't ever want to be away from you. I… trust you. I know what you are, now."

"Really? So what am I?"

"You are Naesala," she smiled. "You are the outcast and the rogue, and yet you are the kindest and most righteous of all of them. You're black, black as night, and yet… you are… the one I trust. Nobody else… nobody else treats me as kindly as you. You are my friend, Naesala. More… more than my friend."

Naesala shook his head. Kind and righteous… he was far too far from kind and righteous. "Hate to break it to you, but you've got it wrong, Leanne. I'm not the kind one. I'm the betrayer who your brother would not mind seeing dead, and the fool who has the Hawk King as an enemy. You need someone better, all right?"

"Reyson accepts things eventually. Tibarn wouldn't do anything to hurt me. But, Naesala, I would leave all of that. I like the way this feels." Delicately she lifted her porcelain hand, brushing his cheek with trembling fingertips. "Please. Let's fly away. I don't want to be apart from you."

"Leanne…"

Naesala closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to organize his thoughts, feeling just like the helpless nestling that Nealuchi always called him. Hadn't he imagined, so many times, what it would be like to hold her in his arms? To taste her lips, feel her skin, be allowed into her heart where she so often hid? It was easy, perhaps, for her to read his emotions and know his thoughts, so he had always driven such notions away as quickly as they arose. She was the last female of the heron clan. The future of her race was upon her small shoulders. He could not taint the herons' one chance at a new generation, a new era, with the darkened blood of a traitor.

But she was so sincere. So pure, so real. She did not lie. Could she really want to be with him, more than anyone else? Could she really love him? He had always been by her side to keep her from harm, comfort her when she was frightened, laugh with her when she was happy. He knew that he himself could never bear to leave her. Behind the darkness, behind the night, did he have some shred of goodness that only Leanne could see?

Slowly – so slowly that he made sure, this time, that he intended every move he made – Naesala brushed a strand of golden hair away from her anxious face. He smoothed over the tiny wrinkles on her forehead created by her slight frown. Arms around her slim waist, feeling the edges of her wings skim over his skin, Naesala bent his head and kissed her again. She tasted like spring on the verge of summer, warm but not yet hot. He could not let her go now, he knew; and she did not seem to want to leave either, for she tangled one hand in his dark hair and let the other cling to his tunic for support.

When he released her so he could lean back and see her face, she blushed fiercely, her cheeks far pinker than they had been even when she sang. But she stepped toward him and laid her head on Naesala's chest, still smiling and looking so peaceful that Naesala wondered how could have ever considered refusing her.

"Thank you," she said contentedly. "I… never thought I'd be so happy."

"I never thought I'd be so lucky. I never thought I'd live long enough, either."

Leanne gave a small laugh. But not even worry over Reyson and Tibarn could pull Naesala's thoughts from her. Because for now, she was his; they were together with no one to separate them or forbid them to see each other. It was enough.

* * *

They lived in Kilvas together. Tibarn was furious, but there was now nothing he could do to Naesala – for it was all too clear that harming Naesala would mean harming Leanne. Even Reyson – resentfully, grudgingly – accepted his sister's choice, though he never quite warmed to Naesala. All the same, each and every day Leanne was treated like a queen. Every laguz knew of the once-hidden love between the Heron Princess and Raven King. Some of them despised the pair for it, especially furious with Naesala, claiming he had stolen her, bewitched her, trapped her into falling in love with him. Every bird laguz, hawk or raven, knew of the herons' plight and therefore Leanne's importance. Leanne held her head high and ignored any of the whispers that reached her ears.

But she could see how they affected Naesala. He had to close his eyes and breathe deeply every time a new story reached them, keep his temper under control, and Leanne would rest a cool hand on his arm. It was always enough – he stayed calm. But she could tell that the tales sometimes tortured him, fed by his own fear and disgust.

It was early after they arrived in Kilvas that Leanne noticed. He was not smiling anymore, no quirky grin, no teasing laugh when they were together. He was cold and brisk in his duties as king – still gentle with her, yet so very different. Leanne touched his face and studied his black eyes. "Why are you so bothered?" she murmured. He looked away, but she did not take her hand from his cheek.

"Because they're all right. I'm not good enough for you, Leanne. You shouldn't be with someone who's attacked Phoenicis more than once, tricked them, worked for beorc - "

"You had no choice," she said firmly. "Would the better alternative have been to allow your people to suffer from the blood pact? If you are at fault… it can only be for being loyal, more loyal than even your father. Right?"

"Being responsible for hundreds of laguz deaths sounds much kinder when you phrase it like that."

"Naesala, don't say it like that."

"It's the truth. You know it. I may not have felt their blood on my beak, but it was nevertheless I who killed them. All for my damn greed."

"Don't say that!" Leanne had never raised her voice to him before. With her family, especially after she had woken after the Serenes fire and knew so little of the modern world, it had always been Reyson who shouted for her, while she stood tall and fierce behind him, but it was still he who did the yelling. But now Leanne found herself driven to speak, to speak _loudly_, and she saw Naesala's eyes widen in surprise. "Naesala, please. You… you did what you had to do, for your _country_. I am not scared of the truth. But… we do not need to dwell on it any longer. It is over. Nothing can bring it back, and for that we must be thankful."

Naesala studied her carefully; Leanne refused to drop her gaze. After a moment, she felt his arms encircle her, his voice low and resigned. "I make you angry sometimes, don't I? I don't think I've ever seen you this angry before. Vicious, you can be, but you're always infuriatingly

calm."

Nodding, Leanne let his large, warm hands rub her back comfortingly. Glancing up at his sharp face, she noticed he eyes were even darker than usual, staring off into the distance over her head. Leanne stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. He was so tall that she almost couldn't reach. But then Naesala shook himself out of his mind and tilted his head towards her, his lips careful but insistent against hers. She lost herself in him, in his strong arms and warmth, needing him like she had never needed anyone else before. His hands slid from her back to her waist as he drew away. Leanne could sense his emotions now – he had forgotten to close his mind as he so often did. He wanted her, but he was going to leave, he was going to stop himself from the desire –

"Leanne…"

"No," she whispered, fisting her hands around his dark tunic. "No, Naesala, please… stay with me. Don't think any more. Please… stay?"

For a second, the silence between was like a sheet of powder snow over the whole world, as silent as if everyone had been turned to stone again. Leanne didn't dare to look away from him. She watched his eyes turn black and unreadable just as she lost her sense of his emotions. All too well, she knew what he would be thinking and fearing, even without her heron intuition.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see their wings, barely brushing, the brilliant white feathers against inky black. Even her pale hand was stark against his black clothes. Leanne let herself fall into him again, eyes still fixed on his face, watching as the sparkle returned to his gaze.

"I would never leave you, Leanne," he murmured. "Never… not for anyone, anything. And I can't say that about anything but you. Know that, all right?"

She would have nodded fervently, but then his lips were on hers again, and she couldn't remember anything else. No stories strained Naesala's conscience. No fears lay hidden in Leanne's heart. She let herself go, smiling, feeling him under her fingertips as powerfully as she felt his hands on her own body. Hot skin, woven clothes, soft wings, nothing was missed. The mere idea of kissing him like this, his hands sliding the sleeves of her robe off her pearly shoulders, sent a thrill through her body like nothing she had known, making her shiver in anticipation, apprehension, or excitement, she couldn't tell which.

Naesala must have felt her tremble, for he suddenly pulled his lips away, his breathing ragged as if he were about to speak. Leanne touched a finger to his lips.

"Please?" she asked, her voice somehow steady.

There was another long silence between them, where Leanne could see the war raging in his eyes, the guilt, the desire, the darkness. All of it bound together by a thin thread of black control, fraying as she watched, as she gripped his shirt and skimmed his skin with her fingertips. She could almost hear his heart beating as rapidly as her own. An idea rising suddenly in her mind, Leanne carefully loosened her fisted grip on his shirt.

She pressed the fabric flat again, but to the sides, leaving the slit in the tunic open and exposing Naesala's scarred, smooth skin. Slowly – tremulously – she leaned forward and kissed his chest, her lips lingering with her gathering courage. His skin was hot to the touch. She closed her eyes, fisted her hands again, hoping, praying, feeling his heart leap under her lips -

And then – only then – did that last thread of control snap.

Naesala grabbed her shoulders and lifted her off the ground so that their faces were level. His eyes were pitch now. No longer shivering, Leanne wrapped her legs around his waist to support herself just as Naesala's lips crashed into her own. She felt his hands race feverishly over her body, she felt her gown falling to the floor, she felt their heat circling and swirling around her, impenetrable, just like the heat on a battlefield. But there was no longer fear, no longer danger.

Just the heat, the night, and behind it all, the love.


End file.
